Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (8 page)

“Good God.” Turning pale, Lady St. Merryn collapsed against her cushions.

“His lordship left Miss Davies three thousand pounds,” Kenhorn went on.

“Goodness me,” Miss Davies said, blinking. “H-how generous.”

“Fustian,” Charley snapped. “Three thousand a year might be thought generous, Cousin, but a mere three thousand pounds after all the years you have so faithfully served my grandmother is absurd. I wish I might have had five minutes alone with Grandpapa to tell him what I think about that.”

“Charlotte!” Lady St. Merryn raised her vinaigrette and breathed deeply.

Miss Davies was flustered. “You are too kind, Charley dear. But really, you must not say such things, not at such a sad time, you know.”

“I could say much worse,” Charley said, turning back to Kenhorn. “I scarcely dare to ask, sir. Did he leave me anything?”

“He left ten thousand pounds to each of his two daughters, the Lady Susan and the Lady Daintry,” Kenhorn said, avoiding her gaze, “but I am afraid he expected your papa to provide for you, Miss Charlotte. He did leave you the pick of any horses currently in his stable. He also left three thousand pounds to augment whatever dowry your father arranged for you, but only in the event that you were married at the time of his death or married within a year after it. That is all. I might add that you are the only one of his grandchildren to whom he left a penny. The residual portion of his private fortune, along with all the entailed property, goes directly to his heir.”

“And who is the heir, sir? I confess, I haven’t a notion.”

Before Kenhorn spoke, Lady St. Merryn said, “It must be one of the Norfolk Tarrants, for St. Merryn had no brothers. We don’t know them.”

“Quite right,” Kenhorn said, “but there is actually some question as to which one it is, I’m afraid. The earl saw no reason to add that information to his will while young Charles lived, but I shall have it sorted out very soon, I expect. In any event, no one can alter anything here at Tuscombe Park until we complete probate, so you can all go on as before until the new heir arrives to set things in order.”

Charley said, “I am disappointed in Grandpapa. He knew very well that I have no intention of submitting my body or my mind to any man’s direction, because I decided that much when I was a child. I told him many times—and Papa, too—just how I want to live my life. It is as if they never took heed of my wishes at all.”

“I am afraid you are right, Miss Charlotte, but in fairness to your grandfather, your wishes must have appeared rather foolish to him. Many a young lady has said she never intends to marry, only to find that marriage is her best course. There is no place for single, independent females in our society. When all is said and done, a woman needs a man to look after her. Surely, you must agree. Moreover,” he added before she could set him straight, “I can tell you that your grandpapa assumed that you would have married long before he departed this earth. He did once say, however, that if through some mischance, you had not done so, you should apply to your Great-Aunt Ophelia to support your”—he hid a smile—“your knaggy notions. That’s what he called them. He said she should look after you, since she put them into your head in the first place.”

Charley pressed her lips together for a long moment. Then she said calmly, “I wrote at once to inform her of Papa and Mama’s death, and again when Grandpapa died, but I cannot imagine throwing myself on her mercy or asking her to set me up in a house of my own. Nor do I wish her to die. In the event, I know she will leave most of her fortune to my aunts, for she will also have expected my father to provide for me.” She stood and held out her hand to the solicitor. “Thank you for coming, sir. Do you remain another night with us, or do you mean to go straight back to Bodmin?”

“Straight back,” he said, clearly relieved that she had not become hysterical. “I will set matters in train at once to notify the new heir, but I daresay it will be six weeks or more before you hear from him.”

Mr. Kenhorn was wrong. Less than a fortnight later, Mr. Alfred Tarrant arrived from Norfolk, bringing his wife, two small children, and his unmarried sister with him.

“Came at once,” he informed the three astonished ladies who greeted his arrival in the drawing room. “Soon as I read that the whole estate was being looked after by a mere female, I knew there was not a moment to lose!”

S
UPPRESSING THE FIRST WORDS
that leapt to her tongue as unacceptable, Charley turned to Medrose, who had announced the newcomers in his usual stately fashion. “Please send for Mrs. Medrose,” she said. “Ask her to help our guests get settled.”

“Not guests, my dear,” Mr. Alfred Tarrant said firmly. He was a squarely built, rather fleshy man of medium height with two chins. Charley judged him to be some five years older than herself. His condescending attitude grated as he continued, “I’m afraid that from this moment you are the guests here, not us. Not but what you aren’t welcome, of course. I stopped in Bodmin to have a word with Kenhorn, you see, so I know exactly how matters stand. You and your grandmama”—he made a stately bow in Lady St. Merryn’s direction—“and, Miss Davies, is it?” He made another bow, to which, clearly flustered, Cousin Ethelinda smiled weakly in response. “Yes, well,” he went on, as he turned back to the butler, “you are all quite welcome to stay here with us until we can make other arrangements. Medrose, I want you and the other servants to know that I mean to make no changes here for the present, so—”

“No one can make changes until probate is completed,” Charley said tartly.

“Quite right, my dear,” Mr. Tarrant said amiably. “Now then, Medrose, if you will just ask Mrs. Medrose to have the mistress’s chambers prepared for Mrs. Tarrant, and the late Earl’s ditto for myself—”

Outraged, Charley snapped, “Do you intend, the moment you step into this house, to turn my grandmother out of the bedchamber she has occupied since she came to Tuscombe Park as a bride! Good mercy, sir, what manner of monster are you?”

“Why, no monster at all,” he said placidly. “Surely, the dowager Lady St. Merryn expected to give up the primary female bedchamber when the new heir arrived. If there were a Dower House here, which I am told there is not, she would surely be making preparations to remove to it.”

“Are we expected to address you as Your Lordship?” Charley demanded.

“Oh, not just yet,” he said. “Time enough for titles when probate is complete, and Kenhorn has one or two small matters to look into before he can accomplish that.”

“What matters?”

“Nothing you need trouble your pretty head about, my dear. Kenhorn has it all in hand, and I doubt you would understand such things if I tried to explain them to you. Now, how are the children to address you, I wonder? I believe Kenhorn said you like to be called Charley by members of the family. I do not hold with masculine nicknames for females, myself, but if that is what you like—”

“How old are the children?” she said, smiling at the two toddlers hiding their faces in the skirts of the younger of the two women who had entered in his wake.

Tarrant said, “Our Neddy is four, I believe, and Jane is two.”

“They can call me Cousin Charlotte if you prefer,” she said, “or Charley if you will allow it.” Turning from him, she held out her hand to the older of the two women with him, and said, “Forgive me if I seemed to forget my manners. We did not anticipate your arrival for some weeks yet, you see, but you are certainly welcome. You, I need not add, may call me Charley if your sensibilities are not disturbed by such nicknames. And your name is …?”

“Edythe Tarrant, with a ‘y’ and an ‘e,’” the woman said, standing straight and looking down her nose. She was not much older than Charley, but she was at least six inches taller and carried herself like a haughty dame with fifty years’ experience behind her. Indicating the slender, light-brown-haired girl to whose skirts the children clung, she added, “This is Mr. Tarrant’s sister, Elizabeth, spelled the ordinary way. She makes her home with us, their parents being deceased. I must say, Charlotte, my dear, since I do not believe in mincing words, that I am astonished to see a young woman of quality putting herself forward in such an unbecoming way as you have done today.”

“Are you, ma’am? Well, when you have come to know me better, my behavior will not surprise you at all. As you can readily see, my grandmother does not enjoy robust health, so it has fallen to me to look after things here since my parents and my grandfather died. Now then,” she added in a brisker tone, “I will be glad to show you over the house when you have got settled in. Mr. Tarrant,” she added, turning back to Alfred, “I will gladly arrange to help you become familiar with estate matters, too.”

“You must call me Cousin Alfred, Charlotte,” he said. “As to estate matters, I assure you, I do not require lessons in management from a scrap of a girl. Kenhorn has promised to visit me to attend to all that. In the meantime, I’ll want to speak to one Petrok Caltor. Quite an outlandish name, but I am told he is the late lord’s steward. Kenhorn tells me he is capable enough, and I don’t suppose he named himself.”

“Petrok Caltor’s is a good and well-respected Cornish name, sir, and he is an
excellent
steward, I might add.”

“I expect we will see about that in good time.”

Charley ground her teeth together, noting that Lady St. Merryn had collapsed with her salts bottle and seemed to have no intention of speaking to the newcomers. She was grateful when Medrose chose that moment to return.

“Here is Mrs. Medrose, Miss Charlotte,” he said from the doorway. Then, turning to Edythe Tarrant, he said, “Do the children have a nursemaid, madam?”

“Ain’t arrived yet,” Alfred said before Edythe could reply. “We met with a dashed heavy fog rolling in from the sea, which doubtless delayed the second carriage. Nonetheless, our baggage and servants cannot be far behind us and ought to arrive before nightfall. In the meantime, our Elizabeth will look after them, won’t you, Lizzie?”

“Oh, yes, Alfred, of course I will,” the girl said in a soft voice. “Come, children. We will find a warm fire and perhaps some cinnamon toast. Oh!” The exclamation came when she looked toward the doorway.

Turning to see what had startled Elizabeth, Charley saw Letty come in with Jeremiah perched on her shoulder.

“Upon my word,” Alfred exclaimed. “What the devil is that?”

Calmly, Charley replied, “Cousin Alfred, everyone, this is my cousin, the Lady Letitia Deverill. Letty, dear, this is Mr. Alfred Tarrant, who says he is the heir to Tuscombe Park.” Having taken the measure of at least two of the newcomers, she added, “Letty’s paternal grandfather is the Marquess of Jervaulx, Cousin Alfred.”

“Is he, by God? And does he allow monkeys in his drawing room, miss?”

“Why, yes, he does,” Letty answered in her usual matter-of-fact way. Making a careful curtsy, so as not to startle the little monkey, she added politely, “How do you do, Cousin Alfred? I am pleased to meet you.” She looked expectantly at the others.

When Alfred Tarrant did not introduce his family, Charley said, “This lady is Mrs. Tarrant, Letty, and that one is Cousin Alfred’s sister, Elizabeth Tarrant. The children are called Neddy and Jane.”

Edythe, ignoring Letty’s polite greeting and eyeing Jeremiah with acute disfavor, said almost before Charley had finished speaking, “Surely, that wild animal is not safe to keep in a gentleman’s house.”

Letty said, “Jeremiah generally lives at the British Embassy in Paris, ma’am. I assure you, his manners are excellent. He does not bite, and he is very clean.”

“Nevertheless,” Alfred said in a too-hearty tone, “in my house, livestock live in the stable. I don’t want to see that little devil in the drawing room again, young lady.”

Charley said, “As I understand the matter, this is not yet your house, Cousin Alfred. And since my grandfather saw no harm in Jeremiah, may I suggest that perhaps a compromise is in order for the present?”

“Nonsense, monkeys do not belong in civilized homes.”

“Jeremiah does not belong in a stable, where he might catch a chill and die,” she said firmly. “I might add, sir, that the marquess is extremely fond of Jeremiah.” She paused. When he did not immediately reply, she added gently, “You may safely rely upon Letty to see that he does not disturb you or Cousin Edythe.”

“Very well,” he grumbled. “But it is a very odd thing, upon my word, it is!”

“Cousin Charley, what a plumper that was!” Letty said in astonishment when Mrs. Medrose had taken the others to see their bedchambers. “You know perfectly well that Grandpapa Jervaulx barely tolerates Jeremiah. I was putting it strongly to say he allows him in the drawing room. He has done so, but only as a very special treat.”

“I know. I daresay I behaved badly, but that man is a pompous mushroom. To think that he will take Grandpapa’s place here makes my blood boil.”

Lady St. Merryn, gathering her many shawls and preparing with Cousin Ethelinda’s assistance to go upstairs to her sitting room, muttered bitterly, “I daresay that odious woman will want every room that I consider to be my own.”

“Never mind her, Grandmama,” Charley said. “You may depend upon it that Medrose will put them both in guest chambers until we can sort out what’s best to be done. The children can have the nursery rooms, of course. But is the outside enough for them to demand your chamber or Grandpapa’s before Alfred has proven his claim to the title and estate.” She would have gone on, but the drawing room doors opened again. When Medrose entered, she said wearily, “What is it now? Surely, those odious people have not contrived to make more difficulties already.”

“No, Miss Charlotte,” the butler said, avoiding her eye as he turned toward Lady St. Merryn. “My lady, I beg to announce the arrival of Lord Rockland.”

Lady St. Merryn had recourse to her salts again.

Charley, looking in astonishment at the grinning young gentleman who appeared from behind Medrose, exclaimed, “Rockland, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Knew you’d be delighted to see me, my treasure. You ought to be grateful I didn’t get swallowed up by that dashed thick fog outside. It’s consumed this house and everything for miles around. Now, I’ve already greased Medrose in the fist to tell me why the front hall is rapidly filling with baggage, so I know you’ve been invaded, but this house looks big enough to hold one more—two, counting my man. Daresay you’ll look upon me as your knight in shining armor, come to rescue you in the nick of time. Your servant, ma’am,” he added, making a profound leg to Lady St. Merryn. “And yours.” He made another to Miss Davies.